Return

Interested readers (all 3 of you) would be interested to know today was the day we ventured back into Wisekids Playroom. This, after my beloved first born threw a nutty about a week ago, resulting in my vow we would never be going back to WP again – Never, Not For The Foreseeable Future, For The Time Being. After several days of tentative canvassing and a promise this morning not to make freaky, Rockstar walks the entire half a km there without a single request for a lift. Glamum has on her pads and helmet this morning as she braces herself for uppity stares and comments by the regulars who were there last time her Rockstar had a meltdown. She’s even armed with a quick right jab (obviously your child is perfect).

Why, you ask, does she put herself thru this <cue melodramatic musiks>? It’s all for the sake of her son, her rockstar <misting up> who would be devoid of an additional means of stimulation if she doesn’t get over herself pronto <cue something that passes for heroic fanfare>.

Hello pretend sushi. I missed you so.

The staff are on the bright and chirpy side of normal as we arrive, “Will that be the day pass, or the monthly unlimited entry pass this morning please?”

We got the day pass because at HKD 800 a pop (a bit over USD 100) for the monthly, Rockstar would have to visit at least 8 times a month (HKD 100 per daily session) for us to be ahead of the game. And if he throws another nutty his needy-for-approval mum (don’t we all have our own parental problems?) may just inflict another bout of banishment while she tries to thicken the ol’ face skin to something closer to Just Plain Normal.

None of the other regulars are there, except the mum of the (now infamous) toy-stealer. Rockstar and I pointedly ignore them. The staff carries the little toy-stealer over and we studiously continue to ignore her. Why, you may ask, am I such an emotionally invested drama mama in this 2-yr old’s squabble? Because my son is on the receiving end. I don’t think it’s a small thing that my son gets every toy taken away from him even when he already shares everything. I don’t think it’s a small thing for me to cave and let someone take all his things away just because I want to be the mummy who smiles a lot and doesn’t get her hands dirty sorting it out (although I could stand to smile a bit more when I’m elbow deep in squabbling toddlers). And, I know I’m really asking for it here, that other child is not my child. I will take care of my child first, same as every other mum. No one else is going to put my child first except me.

Don’t we all feel like growing horns and a spiked tail sometimes…

I don’t blame the other child, but I do blame the mum. I’m not perfect, but I tell Rockstar if he’s mean to JD or other kids he will have no friends. Marvin Gets Mad is my go-to story of choice, about a sheep who gets mad someone accidentally eats an apple he’s eyeing, then throws a fit, losing all his friends and falling down a hole in the process. We all need friends to share our apples with and yes, help us out of holes.

Sense of achievement, much?

Rockstar spends the better part of the entire session with his nose buried in building blocks. He must have rebuilt the tower above half a dozen workable times in various perms and combs. (The pic taken above is of his first try) before calling it a day.

As for the pressure-loaded music finale at the end of every Wisekids session, Rockstar gives it a miss altogether, confounding the staff yet again today as to why he regularly chooses to leave early when they usually border on the Pavlovian (the same goodbye song every single time and a firm explanation to each toddler that this means goodbye) with a shovel to get kids out the door. Mummy’s stumped too. But no one took his toys today.

Related posts:

About Aileen

I blog about living and raising my son in Hong Kong - where toddlers have entrance interviews, parents keep test score spreadsheets, private school debentures can trade for more than half a million USD. Raising Rockstar's the most important thing I'll ever do. We show our true colors by the choices we make in bringing up our children. My blog is a message to my toddler son, about what the world and his parents are like today - for when he becomes a teenager and knows everything.

Slideshow

FB

OMY

To My Son And Daughter. For when they become teenagers who know everything. Because we show our true colors- our beliefs, our prejudices, our weaknesses, our hopes – by the choices we make in raising our rockstars. “Mummy” is an honor that ranks higher than Derivatives Structuring Head, Big Fat Investment Bank. Higher than CEO, Biggest Conglomerate Ever. ‘Cause a long time ago, even they had Mummies.